


The Writing and the Wall

by daroh



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, questionable questioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroh/pseuds/daroh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU--Merlin writes an angry letter that leads to more letters, among other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Writing and the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [tavern tales](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/taverntales) for the great fest and the "Letters, Emails, Post-its" prompt. Enormous thanks and love to [Detochkina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Detochkina) and [EachPeachPearPlum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EachPeachPearPlum) for the betaing and Brit-picking and all-around amazing friendships and support!! <33
> 
> This work was remixed by Aeris444 for Camelot Remix 2015! :) Follow [ this link for "The Idiot and the Prat."](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838744)

_Dear Arthur,_

_I wish I knew how to begin. Hell, I wish I didn’t even have to write this. So much for that. So much for everything. I’m writing this because I can’t even talk to you, maybe not ever again, and because I owe at least this much to myself. I’m handwriting it because I think handwritten letters are more meaningful than typed ones. I want you to see me writing this, too—see the fucking pressure of my pen on this paper with how angry and hurt I am._

_Arthur, you have to know how hard I've been crushing on you, and that’s it’s been like this from the beginning. When we met, you were dating Gwen, and I just tried to deal with it and be your friend. It sucked, but I managed. And then you broke up. I don't know what I hoped for or why I hoped for it._

_I've been way too into you, I know (as do all of our friends), but I thought you felt the same—at least a little bit. You give me these looks sometimes, I swear, and you sit closer to me on the couch than you need to, and you put your hands on my chest, in my hair, on my back, god, so often (and I always love it). I don't even know why you do it, except I thought I did. I’d swear that you look at my lips— a lot—but maybe it's just that my accent still baffles you so you watch me form words or something. That can’t be it, though. I've seen guys look at me like they want to kiss me, and that's the look._

_I would've sworn until yesterday that we were...I don't know...that we were going somewhere, that it was taking for fucking ever, but I was okay with that. We were always together, and I really thought I could see the wheels turning in your head, see you getting ready to move beyond friendship, maybe debating how best to do it, maybe getting ready to kiss me instead of just looking like you wanted to._

_I loved the flirting I thought you were doing, and I couldn't wait for the fucking follow-through, although I could wait—I could wait endlessly, apparently—as long as I thought it was what you wanted._

_Now I can’t believe I misunderstood it all. I don't fucking know how I did, but obviously I did, and obviously you don't care that I've been in love with you for years and would be devastated by this. I can't even believe what you did last night. And I can't believe I saw it. I don't even know if I'm glad that I saw it or not, because god knows you never would’ve told me if I hadn’t._

_I’m so fucking upset, you fucking prat._

_Signed,_

_the fucking idiot friend you've been fucking with_

_(I might totally regret this but right now I'm pissed and I'm sending this thing. FUCK IT.)_

 

****

[The previous night:]

"All right lads, that's it for me tonight. I've gotta be in early tomorrow," Merlin said, putting his thin army jacket on over his more office-appropriate shirt and tie. Arthur loved the way the contrast showed Merlin’s layers, the parts of his personality that somehow fit together. The cut of his clothes, including the old fatigue jacket he'd bought from a vintage shop during uni, was always flattering. He had a talent for looking good in clothes. Out of them, too, Arthur was sure.

"All right. Call me tomorrow," Arthur said, raising his mostly-full pint as a toast and a goodbye.

"Will do," Merlin answered. "Later, Gwaine."

"'Night, Merls," Gwaine said, with a much less lingering gaze than Arthur.

Arthur watched as Merlin walked out of the pub, his lean figure making its way past mahogany tables and booths.

"Over here, Princess," Gwaine said, waving his hand in front of Arthur's face.

Arthur still didn't look away; he waited until Merlin had walked through the door and turned right toward his flat, out of Arthur's line of sight.

"What?" Arthur said.

"Whatever,” Gwaine scoffed, studying his beer.

They drank in silence for a while, and then Gwaine asked, "Why do you stare at him like that?"

Arthur looked Gwaine in the eye, searching for a clue about what kind of answer he wanted.

"Because..."

Gwaine was impatient, in part because their pub nights had been ending far too often lately with Arthur looking like some lovesick puppy. "Because you're getting curious about what shagging a bloke is like?"

"No," Arthur said, then realized that that sounded different than he meant. "No—I mean, I think—I mean I think I might really be in love with him, Gwaine."

"No, you're not. You're just...I don't know, lonely? Having a moment of fantasy? You'll fuck your friendship up, you know, when you realize you're not actually gay. 

"Fuck off," Arthur said. "You know fuck-all about me and what I feel."

"Is that right? I know you wouldn't know the first thing about what to do with a prick that wasn't your own. I bet you'd be put off from just a kiss."

"I said fuck off, Gwaine," Arthur said, irritation roiling in him.

"Look, I'll prove it to you," Gwaine said, leaning in to Arthur's space. He tilted his head, his hair falling seductively to block the view others would have of them, and went straight for an open-mouthed kiss.

Arthur winced and pushed him away. "Gwaine! What the hell? No one said I wanted to kiss you."

"I was making a point, mate, not proposing marriage. Anyway, my kisses are the stuff of legend. You don't even know what you're missing."

"Somehow, I'll make do.”

"Not with a bloke, is all I'm saying, so don't fuck with Merlin when you don't really mean it. He deserves better, and I'll bloody warn him off you now that I know you think you're serious."

"I _am_ serious! Christ, what do you think you know about me? You think I don't know what I feel? Why I ended a five-fucking-year relationship with Gwen because all I could think about was Merlin? This isn't a fucking phase or a moment. Jesus, I would think you'd be more understanding about this, honestly."

Arthur's words would have affected Gwaine more if he wasn't still trying to make sure Arthur was going to be the real deal. Arthur should experiment with some other guy if that was all this was.

"All right," Gwaine said. "I'll fuck off as soon as you prove to me you have a clue what you're even about here. You winced at a fucking kiss. I dare you not to do that a second time."

Arthur's glare was intense. He was feeling a little heady from the pints he'd had and his fixation on Merlin and the new determination to do something about it. He didn't need this kind of provocation from Gwaine, and a dare was enough, a tipping point. He couldn't let Gwaine tell Merlin anything short of "Arthur's bloody serious about you" ("and a great fucking catch" would be nice, too, but Arthur tried not to be ridiculous. Kissing Gwaine for Merlin was going to be ridiculous enough). Maybe the practice would be good; he hadn’t kissed anyone since Gwen. He certainly felt like putting Gwaine through a wall at the moment, just not so much with a snog.

"Fine," Arthur said, finishing his beer and putting the glass down with a thud. "Come on." He threw a few bills on the table and turned to go.

Gwaine was on his heels in no time, not really expecting Arthur to accept the dare even though he was known to be unable to turn them down. Still, he realized, Arthur might just be walking him outside to clock him in the jaw. Who knew what might happen? Gwaine was game, regardless, though he certainly was hoping for a kiss instead of a punch.

Arthur grabbed Gwaine's wrist as they exited the pub and walked around the corner. He was strong and Gwaine was tingling with anticipation, not sure where all this fire in Arthur was going.

He still wasn't sure after it started. Arthur had slammed Gwaine against the warm, damp brick wall of the pub, the streetlights behind Arthur making a kind of halo behind his head that Gwaine took in with a smile. It contrasted dramatically with the dark look in Arthur's eyes, the way his breaths had deepened.  

Arthur leaned his full weight into Gwaine, kissing him hard, angrily. With desire and know-how, but definitely with anger.

Gwaine enjoyed the surprise of the roughness but pushed Arthur back a bit. "Whoa, whoa, mate. I get it; I'm sorry, though I hope you don't kiss Merlin like that, unless you're role-playing some kind of alleyway attack scenario."

Arthur still held Gwaine by the front of his shirt, both hands just under Gwaine's chin. Their bodies were pressed together, and Arthur took the moment in, feeling himself calm. The night air felt good; he hadn't realized how stifling the pub air had become, how angry Gwaine had made him. He ached with the need to be with Merlin; how could Gwaine not understand that? How could anyone who had seen Merlin not understand that?

He wanted Gwaine to know. He needed that support, that erasure of doubt, and he was enjoying the feeling of being closer to snogging Merlin than ever. He nodded slowly at what Gwaine had said, then leaned in, lips barely parted, and touched his mouth to Gwaine's like it was Merlin's, kissed him and thought about all the softness and devotion and adoration he wanted to convey to Merlin, all the worship and promises that he hoped a kiss could impart, because he wasn't sure what words he could form when he finally broached the subject.

Gwaine fell into the mood of the kiss instantly, and let Arthur gentle his way through sensual, languorous swathes of his tongue, cupping his chin, running a hand through Gwaine's hair. It was an absolutely exquisite kiss, and he started pressing into Arthur's hips without realizing it until Arthur, he noticed, was doing a bit of the same.

Gwaine's hands started exploring, unsure when Arthur would decide enough had been proven. He placed his hands on Arthur's arse—the feature of Arthur's he had fantasized about the most—and pulled Arthur against him. They were both getting hard, and the cool dampness of the night only accentuated the heat of the their bodies. Arthur's kiss was better than any Gwaine had had, perhaps ever.

As they rolled their hips into each other with more force and deliberate motion, Arthur moaned low into the kiss. The vibration and the sound went straight to Gwaine's groin, and he broke the kiss without meaning to.

"Fuck, Arthur."

Arthur looked at Gwaine then and didn't search to continue the kiss. Gwaine's eyes stayed closed, waiting for things to resume, but Arthur had stopped rutting against him. Game over, apparently, and Gwaine opened his eyes, hoping his pleading look and his erection pressed against Arthur's through their trousers was convincing enough for a second round.

But Arthur was removing himself from the embrace, seemingly unaffected. Content, even.

Feeling bereft, Gwaine half-jokingly attempted a new challenge: "I dare you to _fuck_ me," he panted, hoping the “dare” thing still had some sway.

Arthur only smirked. "I think your begging proves well enough that I know bloody well 'what I'm about,' as you said. Who knows—if you hadn't said anything and reminded me you’re decidedly not Merlin, you might have gotten further."

Arthur backed away and was smiling, feeling better than he had in a while, as he turned to walk home. Gwaine looked positively wrecked against the pub wall. Arthur thought it might be cruel to leave him like that, but he figured he deserved it.

"Maybe you should go back to the pub, Gwaine, and dare someone to help you out."

"Wanker," Gwaine called out.

"Or that," Arthur answered, and made his way home. Tomorrow, he would definitely talk to Merlin.

 

****

[The following evening]

Arthur got home from work a little earlier than usual, hoping he could meet up with Merlin and finally confess his feelings. He was nervous but happily so, and he couldn't wait to get started.

Merlin had oddly not called him that day as promised, and he hadn't answered any of Arthur's texts, but it was more than possible that Merlin had left his mobile at home. It wouldn't be the first time, or the last. He would have to be home by now, though, so Arthur should be able to reach him.

When he stepped into his flat, though, he noticed a letter that had been shoved under the door. It was fully addressed to him but obviously hadn't been in the post. It had Merlin's handwriting on the envelope, and Arthur was perplexed, but also a little excited. A letter was kind of romantic—who did that anymore?

He threw his jacket over the back of a chair and tore the envelope open. He wasn't breathing as he read most of the letter—and for a while afterwards, it seemed. Almost every word of the letter shocked him, and its vows to never speak to him again terrified him.

Worse than everything, he had _hurt_ Merlin, hurt him when he didn’t even know he could. Merlin had seen him with stupid bloody _Gwaine_.

Arthur slumped on the floor as if he'd been punched in the gut, the wind solidly knocked out of him. He stayed there, stunned and panicked, for some time.

 

****

 

"Merlin, answer! Please! Answer!" Arthur had left countless texts and voicemails for Merlin, and he just wasn't answering. It couldn’t be possible that Merlin would talk to him again. They did everything together! It was one kiss! One kiss on a dare!

Arthur realized there was only one way to respond to Merlin's letter; he would do so in kind, like something out of a Jane Austen novel. And why not? His voicemails were like the angry kisses he had started with the night before. They were an onslaught of emotion daring to be answered. But he didn’t want to attack Merlin with calls. He wanted a chance to explain—explain everything.

He looked for a pen—the right pen, one that would make smooth, careful  letters—and paper, thick, expensive, cottony paper. This letter had to be right, had to be worthy of Merlin. It had to turn around his vision of Arthur as some insensitive arse who ruts against people outside of pubs. And not even “people”—Gwaine.

Jesus, that must have looked _bad_.

He wished he knew calligraphy.

He rolled his shoulders and began.

 

_Dear Merlin,_

_I hope you are reading this letter. I really, really hope so, because I couldn't bear for you to never speak to me again. And in case you can't read past my explanation of my brief time with Gwaine last night, let me start with other things, things about you._

_You were right about everything you sensed in me, Merlin. I flirt and I stare and I touch you with every excuse. I can't help it. I feel like I can never get close enough to you._

_I think about kissing you every time I see you—even when I was with Gwen I did. It's why I ended it with her. I don't know how long I've been so hopeless for you, but for far too long not to have said something, especially if it was so obvious. I’m sorry, Merlin. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I don’t believe I’ll ever be over you. You deserved at least that honesty from me, even if I was a little terrified about what you’d say._

_And now, here goes the explanation of what I’m assuming you saw:_

_Last night, after you left, I told Gwaine how I felt about you. He didn’t believe I could be serious. He challenged me to kiss him “like I meant it,” for whatever that would prove.  In some weird way it was because he was being protective of you, and I don’t blame him. I would never want to hurt you. I've only been terrified of disappointing you._

_I was angry when I did it. I've been so frustrated with myself, not talking to you about this, not doing anything about it, and taking him up on his dare felt decisive somehow._

_I know this is all ridiculous and horrible, but I even went home happy, feeling like I had made my point and all I had left to do was finally tell you and hope you felt the same._

_And then I didn't hear from you all day, and when I got home, I saw your letter. I was so distraught, Merlin, you have no idea. But maybe you do. I'm so sorry. I’ll never regret anything so much in my life, especially if we can’t get past this._

_I really hope you’re reading this, because I’m standing in your hallway right now, hoping you forgive me enough to at least open the door for a word or two. I’m so, so sorry, Merlin._

_Pleadingly,_

_Your awful, besotted friend who wishes for so much more but might have ruined it all on a stupid dare._

 

****

 

Arthur had slipped the envelope under Merlin's door and slumped down in the hall, waiting. He could hear Merlin pad over to the door and pick up the letter.  It felt like ages passed while he waited, hoping Merlin was reading the letter.  

How long would he wait there?  What if Merlin saved it for a few days, debating about whether or not to open it?  What if he never opened it? Maybe he would open it when he found Arthur's body in the hallway, dead from endless, nervous waiting.

Of course, Merlin would be leaving in the morning for work, and that probably wasn't enough time for Arthur to waste away into nothing. Plus, there were other people in the building who would likely walk past. Arthur would have to just decide when it was time to give up, he supposed, but that time wasn't going to come any time soon.

After about thirty minutes, the door opened, and Merlin's head peeked out.  He looked down at Arthur who looked up at him like a prisoner awaiting execution.

"You said you'd be standing," Merlin said, with an odd indifference.

"What?"

"Your letter said I would find you standing out here."

Arthur got to his feet, unsure what Merlin's nitpicking meant.  

"Right. Sorry," he said.

"So, it was just a kiss?"

"Yes, and not one I wanted."

"It looked like you wanted it, and it looked like more than a kiss.  There was definite rutting going on."

Arthur was a little embarrassed and looked behind him down the hall, but he couldn't quite ask Merlin to let him in.

"Maybe, but that's where it ended. I swear.”

Merlin stared at Arthur, his nervousness making his right knee bounce gently against the door he was still holding open.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said. “I hoped my letter would help.”

“Your letter; right. very original idea, by the way," Merlin said with a sarcastic squint.  "Very romantic, too, telling me about your lusty conquest of some pervert in the street."

Arthur’s head cocked, even more unsure how to respond to Merlin. He decided to stick with being apologetic rather than move into mocking, no matter how much Merlin’s choice of words begged for retort. He reminded himself the pain in Merlin’s letter and of his own if this didn’t resolve itself soon.

"I was pretending he was you, you know,” Arthur said, the words falling more quietly than he meant them to. “That's how I got through it.”

Merlin's eyes widened and lingered on him, and he grew braver.

"Please don't tell me I ruined our relationship before it even started," he said.

Merlin smiled a little, but it was still unclear what kind of emotion might be behind it. His gaze shifted abruptly then, and he stepped back into his flat, closing the door. Arthur could do nothing but wait in the hallway again, standing this time, more nervous than before.

A few minutes later, Merlin opened the door and handed a very impatient Arthur a folded note. His expression was frustratingly opaque, but at least he’d come back.

Arthur took the paper a bit dubiously. He unfolded it and braced himself for what it said. He read:

 

_Dear Arthur,_

_I am in receipt of your letter and have the misfortune of knowing Gwaine, too. I realize it is not as if you cheated on me, since we were not even a couple last night._

_It's not usually my style, but since you seem to like being asked to kiss people, here goes:_

_Arthur, please lay one on me. Lay several on me. In fact, just lay on me._

_xxx_

_Merlin_

_PS—No more snogging Gwaine if you accept my invitation (and even if you don't)._

 

Arthur’s smirk was instant, and he flicked the note aside as he studied Merlin’s eyes, and then his lips. He closed the space between them, letting his hands find their way to Merlin’s hips. 

At first it was just the press of their lips together, with Merlin letting out a little sound of happiness, but slowly, the grazing of wet mouths became pressure, sweet and teasing at a more serious kiss. Arthur's hands moved up to Merlin's waist and then caressed his back, relishing the warmth and feel of his long body.

The kiss deepened at just the right moment. It seemed simultaneous and had built so slowly, so lusciously that Arthur felt like he’d never really kissed anyone before. Not like this.

He couldn't believe how his whole being was tingling.  It was better than he'd ever imagined: the velvet warmth of Merlin's mouth, the way his lean form let Arthur hold him but didn't entirely give in, the low moan that Merlin let out when one of Arthur’s hands sneaked under Merlin's shirt to find his hip, finally connecting with usually forbidden skin.

Merlin fell back slightly at the added intimacy. He opened his eyes when he realized what he was braced against just next to his door.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this against a wall the first time—unless that's the only way you know how to snog," Merlin said, not loosening his own arms, which were slung around Arthur's neck.

"Maybe you should ask me in, then," Arthur said.

"Don't you want to pick up my letter first?  It was very clever."

"You call locking me out of your flat again 'clever'?" Arthur asked between the kisses he was planting on Merlin's neck.

"Well, it's too clever to be left lying in the hallway."

"Fine," Arthur said, picking it up. "We can put it in the scrapbook with the others."

"The scrapbook?" Merlin said with a smile, rolling his eyes.  "At least we know I won't be the cheesy one."

"Nor the chivalrous one. Will you let me inside already, or do I need to ask in writing?"

Merlin grinned at Arthur with more unabashed fondness than he ever had before. He took Arthur's hand and led him into the flat, resuming their kiss before the door even latched shut behind them.


End file.
